The Dog Days

Dr. Backpack PhD, MD, LUV

Sup yeah yo umm. Hi. I hope your ninety nine leagues are going well et cetera. Mine are not. Well. I mean. I am having problems in a league that I tried to be all Moneyballish in when I drafted. Like I got all MATHEMATICAL and what not.

One small problem with the whole Moneyball scenario.

I am terrible at mathematics. Atrocious. I repeated all three of the math classes necessary for me to escape being an undergrad. And one of those bad boys was remedial.

R-e-m-e-d-i-a-l.

Showing up to class might have been a slight problem. Also not studying. Or trying.

Or whatever.

But yeah so I am tanking in the very real world of fake beisbol. Two weeks ago, I had post season punches in the mouth planned for a couple of fancy pants owners. Three to be exact. All guilty of thinking their doody did not stink.

Ah, but life is a fickle bird. And it turns out that those evil online acquaintances of mine do indeed produce doody of a most pleasant smelling nature. More sobering, I found out that it is me who stinks.

And that is like ARGH. Because I do not like to lose.

But I do not point fingers: Bautista injury.

Or make stupid trades that seemed like a good idea: Weaver for Trumbo.

Or play hamstrung because I have to keep five Cleveland Indians on my roster.

Five. Wanna know how many are good? None.

Okay. Slight exaggeration. But the number ain’t even close to five. No sir. Not in a twelve team league.

But I AM still holding down another wild card spot elsewhere. I have that. And no guy with a team named after his dog is going to take that from me.

I hope you hear me, Mr. Clarence’s Diamond Weiners. That two game lead stays right here in Backpacktown where it belongs.